When I Heard at the Close of the Day
by Eppy
Summary: Harry misses Draco. A little diddy based on a Walt Whitman Poem.


Title: When I Heard At The Close Of The Day   
Author: Eppy  
E-mail: LizzyPaul@mogenic.com  
  
Rating: PG13 (language, sexual situations)  
Pairing: Harry/Draco  
Category: Romance, Post-Hogwarts  
Spoilers: Everything through GoF  
Timeline: Post-Hogwwarts   
Summary: A short Draco/Harry story loosely based on Walt Whitman's incredible   
poem "When I Heard At The Close Of The Day".   
  
Feedback: Please let me know what you thought of the story. Criticisms will be   
thoughtfully considered and appreciated. Flames will be mocked, and passed   
around to friends. Know the difference.   
Archive: If you want it, you can have it, let me know where it's going please   
and keep all of it together.  
  
Disclaimer: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and any other tangentially mentioned   
characters created by J.K. Rowling remain her copyrighted property, and the   
property of Arthur A. Levine books, as well as Scholastic Press. The author   
believes that the use of copyrighted characters in the forum known as "Fan   
Fiction" is protected under the "Fair Use" statutes of the US Copyright law. No   
infringement of any copyright is intended. Any pop culture references in the   
story are used entirely without permission. The poem "When I Heard At The Close   
Of The Day" was written by Walt Whitman in 1860.  
  
Author's Note: As you may have noticed, this story contains slash. Male/Male   
romance. Homosexuality. If this is going to offend you, the solution is very   
simple...DON'T READ THE STORY! No one is forcing you to. If you do read the   
story, you are doing so because you CHOOSE to. Because you WANT to. So you   
should really reconsider getting all morally indignant and flaming me for   
grossing you out.   
  
WARNING: See the rating, understand the rating, there's sexual stuff in here   
(nothing too graphic) so if that offends you, don't read.   
  
~OWTS~  
  
It was not a letter dissimilar to one's I'd gotten before.  
  
"Dear Mr. Potter," it began. Well, that was good. It was better than letters   
starting out "Oh Magnificent Potter" or "To the Great and Wondrous Boy" or more   
simply those addressed to the "Dear Savior of the World". The letter continued   
on.  
  
"My wife, Leanore, and I wished to thank you for all of you're work against He-  
Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers. Your glorious victory has saved us   
all! To honor you, and to make sure you're never forgotten, we named our   
newborn son after you, Harry Potter Dippledumplkes. Enclosed is a picture of   
your namesake. We can only hope he will live up to the name.   
  
Yours Always,  
  
Aral, Leanore, and Harry Potter Dippledumplkes  
  
I reached into the envelope and pulled out a picture of a thrashing, squalling   
newborn. "Charming," I thought. With a sigh, I took the letter and put it   
with all the rest of the days fanmail. It would be taken to a special,   
enchanted storage vault somewhere. Hermione had taken care of my mail problem   
months ago. There was a very nice system in place that I didn't know nor care   
to know about.   
  
I looked at the clock. Eleven. Late. I turned off the lights and trudged up   
the stairs. Another kid named after me. It was getting to be ridiculous. At   
least this one was a boy. I felt bad for all the Harriet's and Harrietta's out   
there.  
  
I pulled my clothes off and climbed into bed, reproaching myself for my bad   
mood. I really had no reason to be so despondent. I mean, I'd accomplished all   
I needed to. Voldemort was gone. Really gone. The Death Eaters were under   
control. The magic world was politically stable. They were even considering   
muggle contact.   
  
I don't know, even though I should be really happy, I'm not. Hell, I'm the most   
popular guy in the magical world! I should be thrilled. I'm just...not. Very   
depressed is more my state of mind. And I don't even have a good reason for it.   
Sigh.  
  
*~*~*  
  
I woke up. Happy. It was a very strange feeling.   
  
I mean, I woke up and I was smiling. Life was good. I was, for no apparent   
reason, elated. Overjoyed. I stretched, the moonlight streaming in through my   
open window. The sun wasn't even up, but I wasn't tired. I was happy. In   
fact, I was excited. Too excited to stay in bed.   
  
Weird. I hopped out of bed and padded down the stairs to the wall calendar.   
Today was September the 18, so...  
  
Ah.  
  
How could I have forgotten? The calendar certainly hadn't. The day had been   
circled in red, outlined, then colored in, and had little picture fireworks   
going off above it. I smiled. Then giggled. Like a little kid. So that's why   
I felt so good. My little subconscious happy parts must have remembered.  
  
Draco.   
  
Draco was coming today.   
  
I did a little twirly thing in my kitchen. "Draco's coming today," I informed   
my tea cozy. I don't know *why* I felt the need to tell the tea cozy, it just   
seemed to be the most intelligent thing in the kitchen, and I had to tell   
*someone*.   
  
I looked at the clock and nearly committed suicide. Four in the morning. Four.   
Bloody. O'clock. Draco didn't come till six that evening. That was fourteen   
hours. Fourteen long, tedious hours. I couldn't deal with that. How could I   
wait fourteen hours? What could I possibly do in fourteen hours? Oh, goody,   
now it's four-oh-two. Thirteen hours, fifty-eight minutes. I'm going mad...  
  
I decided to go for a walk. Kill some time. I mean, if I could annihilate   
Voldemort, I could slaughter some hours. Right? I grabbed my wand and headed   
out the door. The cottage I was staying at was nicely situated on the coast.   
It was a muggle house, it had electricity and TV and everything, so it was a   
nice break from the magic world, which was what I needed. It was a nice two   
story deal, two bedrooms, a cute living room, a kitchen, dining room.   
  
I decided to walk down to the water. The moon was full, and I thought of   
Professor Lupin. I watched as the moon slowly sunk down on the horizon. I love   
the early morning light, it's so beautiful. I kicked my shoes off and walked in   
the water.  
  
It. Was. Fucking. Cold.   
  
There are, I suppose, plusses to being a wizard. I grabbed my wand. "Thermos   
Aquarius," I muttered. I sincerely hoped altering the temperature of my piece   
of coast wasn't going to set up a chain reaction and destroy the earth or   
something. My neighbor down the street is an environmentalist and is always   
going on about global warming. Since I just...warmed...I was a little worried.   
Oh, screw it.   
  
I waded for a little longer, and watched the sun start to rise. It was   
beautiful. The colors on the water were indescribable. Seriously, I'm not even   
going to bother trying to describe them for you. Get your ass to a beach and   
watch the sun rise for yourself. Amazing.   
  
After a while, I left the water and sat up on a hill. I watched. And thought.   
Mostly about Draco. It was weird. Our relationship. One of those things that   
you least expect. I mean, if you'd told me a couple years ago that I'd be in   
love with *Draco* *Malfoy* I'd have laughed in your face. Draco. Evil kid.   
  
Well, yeah, he was. But he changed. When he had to make the Big Decision,   
Voldemort or The Good (The Good. I hate that. It's so cheesy. That's what   
they've been calling it. The Good. I say, it's not The Good, it's The Common   
Sense) he choose us. Well, now he says he choose me. Back then he said he   
chose the one with the most in it for him.   
  
We ended up getting teamed up. A lot. Either because our magic's work well   
together or because Dumbledoor's more of a matchmaker than I thought. And one   
day we just sort of...kissed. I don't know how to explain it. It happened. It   
was like all the energy we put into fighting we now put into...um...*ahem*...  
  
I stood up, shifting my now uncomfortably tight jeans. I looked at my watch.   
Twelve hours, forty-seven minutes. Fuck. I turned back to my cottage, suddenly   
really hungry.   
  
*~*~*  
  
I put the finishing touches on the dinner. The table was set remarkably, very   
romantic, candles, dim lighting. I made a few improvements to the whole muggle   
atmosphere. The clock said five forty-nine. Eleven minutes. If he was late,   
I'd kill him. Strangle him. Leave his broken dead body in a ditch for the   
birds to...  
  
"Miss me?" A smooth, drawling voice whispered in my ear. I jumped a mile, and   
Draco's pale hands came around my stomach, pulling me against him.   
  
"Easy," he crooned, then nibbled my ear lobe. I turned in his arms and crushed   
my lips against his. His hands came down to cup my ass and pull me closer to   
him, I ran my hands through his hair, cupping his neck to bring his mouth more   
firmly against mine.   
  
It was like we'd never been apart. Our bodies fit perfectly together, our legs   
sliding between each other, pulling us closer. The friction was incredible.   
Our hands knew what to do, our lips had done this a thousand times before. We   
realized we were quickly getting to a place where we weren't going to be able to   
stop.  
  
Draco pulled back. "What about dinner?" he asked. I loved him like this, his   
gray eyes bright with arousal, his lips red. I needed him, impatient with even   
this brief interruption.  
  
"Fuck dinner," I said succinctly, and tried to kiss him again.  
  
He held me back, his nose wrinkled. "Well, I've never done that," he said, his   
tone mocking. "But try everything once is my motto..."  
  
I was not in the mood. "Less talking. More kissing."  
  
"You *are* horny," Draco chuckled. "I approve. It tarnishes the whole Golden   
Boy image." He pushed me up against the cabinet which HURT but I didn't have   
time to complain, because then he was *there* and I saw the reasoning of having   
me against something. His body was pressed so compactly against me it's a   
wonder I didn't just come right then. He kissed me, hard, then pulled away.   
  
"This would be much easier somewhere else. I mean, I could just sweep   
everything off the table and have my wicked way with you right here..."  
  
"Wicked way?" I choked out, sputtering with laughter.  
  
"Shut up. ANYWAY, wanker, you did a right lovely job of setting the table and I   
don't want to mess it up, so..."  
  
"So have you seen my bed?"  
  
"Bed?" he asked petulantly. "That's upstairs, right? So far away..."  
  
"I have a lovely couch."  
  
He perked right up. "I like couches. Sometimes they have neat floral designs."  
  
"Well you'll love this one..."  
  
*~*~*  
  
Moonlight does really great things to Draco's hair. He looks gorgeous, period,   
but bathed in moonlight...wow. It was all I could do to keep from waking him up   
and ravishing him. But he needed his sleep. I kept him pretty busy.  
  
After our...um...really long hello kiss...we had dinner. I think he liked it.   
Hopefully. *I* thought it was pretty good, if I do say so myself. Then he   
insisted on reading my fanmail. And mocking it. Then me. He's lucky he's   
still alive. It's just because he's funny. If he was that rude *and* a bad   
comedian I think he'd have been offed by now.  
  
And then we...well we went to bed.   
  
I couldn't sleep. I heard the crashing of the waves outside my window. It was   
such a nice evening.  
  
It was a freezing evening, because *someone* was hogging the blanket   
::cough::draco::cough:: but I didn't even mind because he was there. He rolled   
over towards me, his arm slinging over my chest. He snuggled closer. I leaned   
down and kissed his forehead.  
  
His face kind of crinkled. "Arry?" he mumbled, mostly asleep. Aw, he's   
dreaming about me. How sweet. I reached over and tucked some of his hair out   
of his face and behind his ear.  
  
"I love you," I whispered.  
  
I still stole the blanket back.   
  
THE END  
  
Oookay. You want the poem the story is based on? This happens to be my   
favorite poem of ALL TIME and can be found in Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman   
  
When I Heard At The Close Of The Day  
  
When I heard at the close of the day how my name had been reciev'd with plaudits   
in the capitol, still it was not a happy night for me that follow'd.   
And else when I carous'd, or when my plans were accomplish'd, still I was not   
happy,  
But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health, refresh'd,   
singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn,  
When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in the morning   
light,  
When I wander'd alone over the beach, and undressing bathed, laughing with the   
cool waters, and saw the sun rise,  
And when I thought how my dear friend my lover was on his way coming, O then I   
was happy,  
O then each breath tasted sweeter and all that day my food nourish'd me more,   
and the beautiful day pass'd well,  
And the next came with equal joy, and with the next at evening came my friend,  
And that night while all was still I heard the waters roll slowly continually up   
the shores,   
I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands as directed to me whispering   
to congratulate me,  
For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the cool   
night,  
In the stillness in the autumn moonbeams his face was inclined toward me,  
And his arm lay lightly around my breast--and that night I was happy.  
  
  
Isn't that a lovely poem? And they still say Walt Whitman wasn't a   
homosexual...what are they, blind? Come on, people! I wrote a report for class   
and got a 'C' simply because I had the audacity to say the father of modern   
poetry, Mr. Whitman, was gay. Helloooo! Read the poem! (Sorry, little rant   
there). Anyway, I love Walt, and I wanted to write an H/D based on his stuff. 


End file.
